


Drunk Dial

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Askewniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-02
Updated: 2004-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1627049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holden gets drunk, and starts calling his old friends.  Spoilers for Chasing Amy, and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.  Oh, and Clerks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Dial

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Beth C.

 

 

Alyssa was gone. Without Holden in her life, she wouldn't have to address the whole problem of being attracted to men. If she did, it'd be easier. She could put Holden in the same category as the rest of the assholes from the Jersey 'burbs. 

Banky was gone. At first Holden had thought it was for the same reason as Alyssa; that he didn't want to deal with being attracted to men. Then Hooper had called to apologize for stealing Holden's boy. Holden had listened to that message far too many times. He still had it saved. So, Banky was okay with being attracted to men. Just not with being attracted to Holden. Not to the man he'd known for most of his life. Not to the man he'd practically had a common-law marriage with. 

Banky was making money off _Bluntman and Chronic._ After Holden had gotten out of the deal, because he didn't want to have to think about their past. Yeah. And writing _Chasing Amy_ had really helped with that process. 

Holden wasn't sure which of the three were depressing him more. They were starting to meld together, as he was trying his best to get incoherently drunk. Pete's Wicked Ale was helping the process. 

Being in Red Bank was starting to get to him. Everyone he loved, that he _had_ loved, past tense, was either in New York or Los Angeles. 

He reached for the phone, knocking over some empty bottles in the process. He hoped they were empty. He was just drunk enough to begin the drunk dialling process. He'd call someone, maybe get laid... 

No. He didn't want soulless, casual sex. He wanted meaningful sex. He wanted someone he knew better than he knew himself. Of course, since he still didn't know what he wanted or who he was, that wasn't an option. 

He went for the next best thing, and dialled Alyssa's number, hoping it was still good. "Hello?" a woman said. 

"Alyssa?" he asked, hoping that it was her and not her latest girlfriend or someone who'd moved in or... anyone but her. 

"Holden?" she asked, allievating his fears. "Why--" 

"Drunk dialling." 

"Oh. Christ. Okay. What's up?" 

"How's your friend?" 

"Which?" 

"The one from Quick Stop." 

"Still a vegetable." Holden could hear her light up a cigarette. He reached for one of his own, but put it down when she said: "I miss you, Holden." 

"I miss you too." He reached for a beer, getting just an empty bottle. He managed to find a mostly full one. 

"How's life?" 

"Crappy. My friend of over twenty years left me over a girl I loved, only now both have decided to be gay without me." 

The silence indicated that Alyssa was trying just as hard as Holden to figure out what he'd just said. 

"Oh," she said, finally. So you're bitter that not only have I, but Banky as well, turned to an alternative lifestyle rather than be with you." 

"Basically, yes." 

"Basically nothing. That's exactly it." 

"Do you still love me?" 

"Yes. I told you. I always will. That's why I haven't hung up on your homophobic ass yet." 

He took a drink. "Did you see the _Bluntman and Chronic_ movie?" 

"Yeah. Nice subject change." 

"Thanks." He took another drink. "What'd you think of it?" 

"I'm glad your name wasn't on it." 

"Yeah, but that means I don't get any money for selling out." 

"You sold out a long time ago, Holden." 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome. And I'm sure Banky would give you a decent share if you called him. Which you should do." 

"Call Banky?" he echoed. He finished his beer in one pull. 

"Yes. Call Banky. Instead of me. Especially when you're drunk." 

"I don't have his number." 

"Well, find it." 

"I will." He opened another beer. "Alyssa?" 

"What?" 

"I love you." 

"I love you too. Call me when you're sober sometime." 

"All right. And... give me a call. Whenever." 

"I will," she said, her voice breaking. He'd made her cry again. He was good at that. "Bye." She hung up before he could say good-bye. It was probably for the best. 

He took a drink, and headed towards the computer. He'd run a search for Banky's number. He'd find Banky, and... 

And then something would happen. Something big. Something huge. Something that would put Holden's life back where it was supposed to be, back where it should have been. 

It didn't take long to find Banky's address, phone number, et cetera. Holden managed to finish his beer in the process anyway. He hoped the contact info was accurate. And that Banky was, in fact, at home. 

He called. And called. And gained the insightful knowledge that the phone company disconnects the call after twenty-three unanswered rings, or one beer. Or so he thought. The next call disconnected after twenty-two unanswered rings. The third was twenty-three again. 

The fourth lasted for seven. "Hello?" a man said, not sounding tired as much as he sounded annoyed. It wasn't Banky. 

"Hooper?" Holden said, his brain collapsing in on itself. He almost spit out his beer. He didn't, sw 

"Holden McNeil. Mm-mm-mm. I suppose you're calling for your other half." 

"He's... I... Why didn't anyone answer the phone?" 

"You are _not_ prepared for the answer to that question, Holden. Mm, and he yelled your name too. Must be fate." 

Holden didn't want to respond. He wasn't going to respond. "He _what_?!" Hooper laughed. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding." 

"No, bitch. It's true. You do want to talk to him, right?" 

"Right, but--" Holden started. 

"Then I'll go get him for you. I know he'll be happy to hear from you." 

"Hello?" 

"Banky?" 

"Holden?" 

"Hi," Holden said, taking a drink. 

"Hi. What the fuck do you want?" 

"I was just wondering... uh... did Jay and Silent Bob make it out there?" 

"You're the one who sent them here?" 

"Well, yeah, but--" 

"Man. Did you know Bob can talk?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Holden finished his beer with a long pull. 

"What the fuck was that? Are you sucking cock or drinking?" 

"Drinking," Holden said, feeling almost insulted until he remembered who he was talking to, and why he'd called. "For now," he added in what he hoped was a seductive tone. 

Banky laughed at him. "What, you're a six-beer queer now?" 

"Hooper answered your phone." 

"Yeah, we just had sex. Don't change the subject." 

Holden closed his eyes, and held the phone tighter. "Are you fucking kidding me? You've finally come to terms with this shit, and you're still talking like a homophobe!" 

"Yeah. What's your point?" 

"I miss you." 

"Awww. And how many beers and phone calls to Alyssa did it take for you to say that?" 

"Fuck you." 

"I'll consider it." 

"...what?" 

"I'll consider it," Banky said again, louder and slower. 

"Stop fucking with me." 

"I haven't even started yet," Banky purred. "So. We going to be a bicoastal couple, or are you coming out here?" 

"...what?" 

"Kidding. Christ. Seriously though, do you want to come see or should I come see you because we have a metric fuck-ton of issues to work through here." 

"A metric fuck-ton." 

"Yes. So. You wanna come here or what?" 

"I think you should come here." 

"What, because I stormed out of your life? Or because you don't want to leave your place?" 

"Both." 

"Man. If there was _ever_ a Jersey fuck who wanted to have his cake and eat it too, it'd be you." 

"I thought that's why you loved me," Holden quipped. 

"No, that's why I left you. I loved you because of everything else." 

Holden took a deep breath, and reached for a cigarette. "You love me?" 

"Yeah, no shit, idiot. I love you. You love me. And I left-- in case you haven't figured it out-- because you fucked up our relationship by trying to bring the dyke into it." 

"No, that's not it. You left... you left because you couldn't handle it." 

"Yeah, maybe that's it. I don't know. Which is why I'll get out there as soon as I can." 

"To deal with the metric fuck-ton?" 

"Exactly." 

"What about Hooper?" 

"He'll drive me out to the airport. Hopefully. He's kind of mad 'cos I called out your name." 

Holden nearly swallowed his cigarette. "...what?" 

"I know you have a greater vocabulary than that, even for a drunk dial." 

"Thank you." 

"How many beers have you had?" 

"Uhm... I started drinking a little while before calling Alyssa." 

"Fuck. Go sleep. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll work out the details of my trip, okay?" 

"Okay." Holden hesitated. "You are coming out, right?" 

"In what sense?" 

"Banky--" 

"Yes. I miss you too. I want to see you. We'll work everything out once you get over your impending hangover. For now, though, go sleep." 

"But... I want to talk to you _now_." 

"I know you do, but... look, I'm tired. You're tired. It'll be better tomorrow. I promise. Now go to fucking sleep!" 

Banky hung up. 

Holden smiled to himself, and put the phone back on the hook. 

 


End file.
